Like Father, Like Son
by Misty Satin Dream
Summary: An angry, hurt Qui-gon refuses to take another apprentice after the devastating events with Xantos. The coming together of Qui-gon and Obi-wan as Yoda stands watch seems so imminent but not before disaster strikes.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
  
Qui-gon Jinn stormed down the High Council Hallway with a fake purpose in his step. To be honest, he pulled it off; it really looked like he had somewhere to go. But in all actuality, he could have been moving slower than a snail if he wanted. Qui-gon's face was fixed with such a hard scowl it looked as though you would break your fist if you were to punch him in the face. The proceedings of the Council meeting he had just quitted made his cheeks burn with rage:

"Qui-gon, concerned we are. Disturbing your actions have been and..."  
  
"Master, there has been nothing worth conc..."  
  
"... And," Yoda had continued raising his voice, "decided we have that confined to the Temple you will be." Well, that had been plenty embarrassing enough. But, as always, Qui-gon was going to fight this and make an even bigger scene.  
  
"My Master, this is outrageous! Surely there has been some strong misunderstanding here." Qui-gon's tone was angry. Yoda just shook his head and sighed with disappointment. Qui-gon always pushed buttons where he shouldn't; it was his defiance and as much as it made the Council agitated Yoda had always admired it. But the situation was different. This was life and death.  
  
"Alone we should speak perhaps." The old master nodded at Mace Windu in the next chair. The Council quietly left the chamber, leaving a seething Qui-gon and a determined Yoda.  
  
"Qui-gon stop this must. Understand I do how terribly Xantos hurt you  
but..."  
  
"It wasn't his fault!" Qui had snapped. "It was mine."  
  
"Wrong you are, "Yoda replied. "In this case, it was not the teacher who failed. Know how hard it is I do, but gone too far you have."  
  
"Master, nothing is wrong. I've dealt with it. There are no grounds which should lead to my confinement."  
  
"No. Dealt with it you have not. Found you unconscious we did from wounds you did not tend to. Most dangerous missions you take. Against my judgment it was but listen you would not. Threatening your life you are."  
  
"Master Yoda, please,' Qui-gon had pleaded, his voice strained. ' It's not that I deliberately let myself bleed—I did not honestly know the extent of my injuries. That was just an accident."  
  
Yoda stopped him through the force telling him his attempt to be convincing was useless. Qui-gon had known perfectly well he had needed medical attention but he had been shutting himself up so much, he wouldn't seek it. Qui-gon had stood silent then. Yoda finished aloud.  
  
"Confined to the Temple you are" His actions were not worth what you are giving them. Stop honoring them by hurting yourself. Please. Perhaps taking another Padawan...Yoda stopped. Qui-gon shook his head, and left the room in fury without so much as a bow.  
  
Now as his steps left a cloud of dust behind him, he realized how badly Yoda wanted him to take another apprentice. That had been the twentieth time in the last two months Yoda had suggested it. Every time it made Qui- gon fume. It was stuck in his head that he would never teach again. Deep down, he knew Yoda was correct. He was giving Xantos' actions far too much recognition. But it hurt. The pain was devastating but his stage of grief had passed. Anger at himself for being so careless consumed him now, ruled his mind.

Strike 2: Yoda was right once more. Outwardly, he would not admit it but alone with his own thoughts, he knew what he was doing was crazy. The most dangerous missions? Why? Dangerous—an empty word poorly used to describe the reality of what he had seen.. So it was true. He had locked himself up, refused help, rejected taking another Padawan and had let himself almost bleed to death. Yoda knew it; Qui-gon knew it. Yoda thought he could fix it; Qui-gon knew he never could, not till it killed him. Nothing would stop him. Nothing would restore his trust. Not even the innocence of childhood...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Qui-gon reached his quarters in record time no doubt. He walked in the door, stopped, looked around, and realized the stupidity of the situation. He had nothing to do! Absolutely nothing. Sitting around here and thinking wasn't an option. Making the mindless decision, Qui-gon turned on his heel and left his quarters. He figured he could walk down to the cafeteria, get a stiff drink. Through the trauma of the last few years, he had done a lot of regrettable, tasteless things. This was just a toast to himself on managing to make the state of affairs even harder to overcome. But he wasn't going to make it to the cafeteria that day. Fate had something else in mind.  
  
Qui-gon would have knocked the child down if he hadn't spoken immediately.  
  
"Hi!" a little voice said. Qui-gon looked down at a little boy, around 5, not even 4 feet tall yet, with huge blue eyes, and an impeccable, broad smile. Qui-gon looked around, wondering why there was a kid on his doorstep, and seeing no one else, sighed with impatience and annoyance that his plans had been interrupted, however small they were.  
  
"Hello." Qui-gon replied curtly, sarcastically even. Perhaps now would be the appropriate time to describe what had become of Qui-gon's character. The compassionate, strong, patient, loving Qui-gon Jinn, who was well known, well liked, and respected, had become a short tempered, stern and avoidable man. He had been the kind of man who wouldn't have harmed a fly, but would have given his life, and taken the life of another, if it meant protecting those he loved.

Now, he'd become sharp and unapproachable because a cute little kid was in his way. In a word, it was disgusting. But, as the youth looked into Qui- gon's eyes the Master felt something, a feeling he hadn't had since before Xantos. It was that sense of peace, of connection. He softly shook his head. No, it couldn't be. He didn't, he could not feel that anymore.  
  
"You dropped your comlink in the hallway," the little boy explained, handing it back to Qui-gon. Qui just stared at the object, looked at the boy, and then took it from him.  
  
"Thank you." Qui-gon mumbled before pushing past the kid to continue down the hallway. He almost started his relay walking again, but his mind was jumbled now, and it slowed him down. He hadn't gone far when he looked down to his left. The young boy was right there, looking at Qui-gon with inquisitive eyes. Qui-gon stopped, looked around, looked at the boy and inquired why he wasn't with the other initiates. The child put his eyes to the floor and muttered:  
  
"I don't fit in. I feel like I'm... different. I don't like it there. Are you going to tell on me?" Qui-gon smiled for the first time in months. It felt foreign. Qui-gon knew what it was like to feel out of place. And that sense of connection was growing so strong, he couldn't ignore it anymore. There was something between him and this child...  
  
"What's your name?" Qui-gon surprised himself by asking. He knelt down to look the little one in the eyes.  
  
"Obi-wan, sir."  
  
"Well, Obi-wan, you shouldn't have snuck out, as I'm sure you did. But if you go back now, I won't tell on you." A wide smile hit the youngster's face. Qui-gon stood up. His smile gone, replaced once more by the stern glare. He kicked himself. What are you doing? He asked himself. Instead of taking back his kind words, he just walked off. The boy watched him walk away with a smile. He had felt something too. Something he had never felt before. He wondered what it was.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
Two weeks passed, finding Qui-gon utterly bored. He wanted so much to be free again. The temple, his quarters, all his surroundings brought back memories. At least when he was out on the murderous and vicious battlefields, he didn't have to think of Xantos.  
  
Yoda observed Qui-gon from a distance, and saw that being restricted, while keeping him from destroying himself, made Qui-gon stir crazy. Yoda knew how painful the memories were. Perhaps it was not fair to force him to re-live it all. Qui had had two weeks of rest. Letting him out again, provided it wasn't so extraordinarily dangerous, wasn't the worst idea in the world. The old master went to Qui-gon, and released him from his confinement.  
  
But while he was there, Yoda sensed Qui-gon's emotions were fighting a feeling of correlation. Sensing a bond you are, Qui-gonYoda mocked with a chuckle of self-congratulation. No, Master. I don't believe soMaybe, just maybe, the Force could still revive the Qui-gon Yoda remembered so fondly. Give it time, the old master willed himself. Time will tell.  
  
Qui-gon was off on a mission the afternoon of his release. His mission was chosen for him along with the insistence that he take a partner. An older gentleman, Master Rawitz, was assigned to Qui-gon (his purpose being more to baby-sit Qui-gon than to assist in the mission). They arrived on Derwin III by early evening, neither of them haven spoken a word.  
  
A week and a half passed. The mission was uncomplicated; mostly debate on what the Capitol's next move would be. Master Rawitz and Qui-gon exchanged very minimal conversation and made separate reports to the Council. And, of course, Qui-gon's attitude was less than sparkling.  
  
The assignment seemed harmless, but it wasn't. Nothing could be that simple. There were no witnesses, not Rawitz, Qui-gon barley knew it was happening. He was scarcely eating. He got little sleep. The simplest tasks suddenly had the power to exhaust him. And as the days passed, it didn't become better. But, hiding things had become so natural to him; no one had any idea Qui-gon was suffering.  
  
It, of course, didn't stop him. During the usual daily discussion with the highest-ranking officials of Derwin III, a message was received from their generals. Their armies were being beaten back, knocked out. It wouldn't be much longer before there was no chance. As the room flew up in arms, Qui- gon leaped from his seat and sprinted to the door, Rawitz on his tail.  
  
"Jinn! Where are you going?" Qui-gon barely turned his head as he passed through the door.  
  
"I'm going out there." Rawitz stood stunned for a moment before trotting after Qui and grabbing his shoulder.  
  
"Are you crazy? There's no reason for us to go out there. There is nothing we cou—" "I didn't say we." Qui-gon reproached. He began walking again.  
  
"Qui-gon, you'll be killed. It is completely out of control. There is nothing you could do. It... it's pointless to even consider going. There is no reason." Rawitz found the notion so completely worthless, the words he strained seemed empty. Never the less, Qui-gon stopped. He was right, and Qui had no way around that. It was foolish. Qui-gon pushed past Rawitz, heading down the opposite corridor to his room. The elder followed him with his eyes, then proceeded to contact the council.  
  
It had been a warm day, and a busy one, too. Young Obi-wan Kenobi was tired and anxious to crawl under the cool, comforting sheets of his bed. Finally, his setting was quiet and at rest, and he could hear himself think. Something had been picking at his mind all day; he had wanted so much to deal with it, but every time he tried, a new game would come up, or he'd have to make it to "safety" in a fresh contest of tag.  
  
But now, it was clear: Master Jinn. What was it about that man? Why did he feel so close to him when he knew so little? It was the single strangest emotion he had ever had but, even in its oddity, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. As he drifted to sleep, Obi-wan wondered if Master Jinn, or anybody for that matter, ever got this feeling too.  
  
Qui-gon sat at the back of the transport, grudgingly punching out his report. After his little "incident" had been spilled to the council, the two Jedi had been sent straight home. It had been the council's intention of bringing them home with in the week anyway, but Qui-gon knew trouble was waiting. He'd probably be locked up again, for a longer sentence, no doubt.  
  
Secretly however, he was glad of it. He frequently had to close his eyes while writing to keep from fainting. Qui-gon knew he was sick, he knew it was serious but outwardly, was too stubborn to admit it, or to ask for help. By the time they got home, it would be late. The council would wait until morning; he'd have plenty of time to rest.

But late that night, when he tripped through his door, he fell unconscious on to his bed. Qui-gon sure lucked out in the fact that the council decided till afternoon to ask for him.  
  
Obi-wan awoke with a weird start. He sensed that Master Jinn had returned. He didn't know how, but he didn't care. He jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes, and carefully slipped out of the quiet nursery.  
  
He remembered with flawless acuteness the way to the Jedi's quarters. When he reached it, he buzzed the door. No answer. Again. No answer. Now Obi was confused. His mind was telling him Master Jinn was here, but reality said he wasn't. He tried three more times. Nothing. Suddenly, Obi- wan became frightened. He knew it; he could feel it. Qui-gon was there. Something was keeping him from the door. Fear surged through the child and he heroically tried to pry the doors open with his tiny fingers. He pulled with all his teeny might. Tears sprang to Obi's eyes- why was he being stopped? Something was wrong; he had to help.  
  
A fire kindled inside him; it was so strong, so powerful. Without even realizing it, Obi flung himself against that door, and pulled again. But this time it wasn't just his arms. The strength came from that flame. Slowly, the doors moved apart until they were wide open, right there in front of a stunned Obi-wan. How did I do that? he thought. But he raced in and feverishly searched for Master Jinn. When Obi-wan found him, his fear returned, and he shook Qui-gon, calling his name. With no reply, Obi-wan ran out of the apartment and sprinted all the way to the Healers.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Qui-gon awoke 4 days later with an acute headache and a drowsy, heavy sensation. The Healers told him that it would pass. He had been infected with a deadly virus. Readily questioned on his symptoms and his lack of action to seek help, Qui-gon managed to pull out this fable about the mission being busy and his symptoms those of a small common cold. He had "had no idea things were so bad." The story didn't fly, but the subject was dropped.  
  
"If you had been found any later, we wouldn't have been able to do a thing." The words were chilling, and disappointing. Now he would never get out of the temple again.  
  
Later that day, Yoda made his appearance. The Master's tone was marred with the same old concern and the lecture of Qui-gon's conduct. His story, of a busy, stressful mission, for one thing, didn't match Master Rawitz's report. "Doing it again you are, Qui-gon. Frightened for you I am." There was no talk on what Qui-gon's freedom status would be. He knew it wouldn't be welcome news.  
  
When Yoda felt he had exhausted the now common topics once more, he brought up a minor investigation that had led to the source of Qui's rescue.  
  
"It wasn't you who found me?" Qui-gon asked confused. Yoda shook his head and explained all that had been found out about Obi-wan's action.  
  
"Felt something he says he has. A bond he described. Deep emotions for you he has. The Force he used to get to you. The Force he senses between you." Know it you do, Qui-gon  
  
"Master, I have no idea what you are talking about. I have sensed nothing." Qui-gon lied. "Perhaps the boy should be aided in finding where his emotions are really leading him." Yoda just shook his head, and took leave. Time will tell, he reminded himself. It may take awhile, but Qui-gon can't fight it forever.  
  
A few more days rolled by, and Qui-gon's condition steadily improved. One day, while he was feeling exceptionally better, he had an unexpected visitor: little Obi-wan, who came bearing a flower and a get-well card, both handcrafted by the youngster himself. As Obi-wan approached Qui-gons bed, both were washed with the most peaceful warmth, wondering if the other had felt it. It grew stronger, Qui-gon thought. Maybe something is going on here...  
  
The young one's face always forced him to smile. He couldn't help it; so glad he was to have this feeling again, he forgot to fight it, and managed to be genial. He was letting himself soften. But how far would he go?  
  
"Well, Obi-wan, we meet again. I am very much in your debt, little one. You saved my life. If you hadn't come when you did... well..."  
  
"You could have died, couldn't you?" Obi said solemnly.  
  
"Yes, Obi-wan. But you were there. And I thank you. And I also thank you for your gifts. They are very nice."  
  
Obi-wan smiled boldly. "You're welcome, Master Jinn. I'm glad I helped you. I'm glad you are ok. You are ok, right?"  
  
Qui-gon nodded."Yes, Obi-wan, I will be ok."  
  
"Good. I better go. Maybe I can come see you tomorrow."  
  
"Yes... maybe." Part of him had wanted to say "I'd like that," but he wasn't going to let all of his restraint off. Not yet, anyway. Just before he walked through the door, Obi-wan turned to ask a question.  
  
"Master Jinn? Have you ever pulled open a door?" Qui-gon looked at him with slight amusement and a touch of unease. Obi-wan wasn't aware that Qui-gon knew what had happened. It was clear the child had been giving serious thought to his uncharacteristically strong arms at that moment. Qui- gon answered quietly after a long silence.  
  
"No, Obi-wan. I haven't." The boy put on a puzzled look, nodded a bit, and left the room. A well put question, Qui-gon thought. The boy's sharp. The boy... What was with this boy?  
  
Three days more in the Healers ward saw Qui-gon back on his feet and home again. More long chats with Yoda got him out of the Temple with an escort. Qui-gon had already began to soften, the old master noticed. Perhaps the wall Qui-gon had built wasn't quite as thick as it seemed.  
  
The transport to Kreinin was leaving late evening. Qui-gon packed a few bags now, just to do something. It was a bright, mild mid-morning. He was happy to be getting out of the temple again, though it didn't seem quite so crucial now. The last few days he had though about Obi-wan Kenobi a great deal. He had let down a layer of his protection with that kid, and he wasn't yet sure it was the right thing to do. But something told him it was. He had to be so careful, so very, very careful.  
  
"I will not let myself go through Xantos twice." That was it. Last week, his definition of preventing repetition would have been to never set yourself up, never take another apprentice. Now, things were different. Qui- gon had let them change. Now the definition was just be absolutely sure.  
  
Qui-gon walked to the common room to drop some bags. The door buzzed. It shook him. Not so much that he was startled, that he knew immediately, without the Force who it was. On the other side of that door stood Obi-wan Kenobi. His prediction was correct. The two looked at each other for a long while, smiling as the peace flowed over them again, before Obi-wan finally whispered his "hello."  
  
"Good-morning Obi-wan. Please, come in."  
  
"Thank you. Sorry I didn't come see you. They wouldn't let me. When I checked today, they said you had gone home. You're all better now, right?" Qui-gon gave a little chuckle.  
  
"Yes, Obi-wan. I'm just fine. I'm glad you came to see me. Would you like something to drink?" Qui-gon was well aware that they had nothing more to talk about up front. But he couldn't let the boy go so soon.  
  
"Yes, please." As Qui-gon worked in the kitchen, Obi wan shrugged off his robe. He noted with disappointment the array of bags near the door. A pit grew in his stomach. He didn't want Master Jinn to go again. The Temple, with all its numbers, had felt empty without Qui-gon. Why was he leaving again so soon? When Qui-gon returned an insistent Obi-wan put forward the question.  
  
"Well, Obi-wan, I am a member of the Jedi Order and I have to go on missions. It's my job."  
  
"But I don't want you to go. Please stay. I... I don't want you to get hurt again. And besides, couldn't other people go? Why is it always you?"  
  
"Other people do go Obi-wan. It's not just me. Someday, you'll go too, be it your destiny. I don't want to get hurt again either, but sometimes it happens."  
  
"But isn't there other work you could do? Maybe you could work in the nursery with the healers. Then we could be together and..." Obi-wan stopped, struck that the words had come out. Qui-gon just stared back at him with the same awe. After a lengthy silence, Qui-gon softly asked:  
  
"Obi-wan, when you pulled that door open, what were you feeling?"  
  
"A flame. Power..."  
  
"Are you feeling that right now?"  
  
Obi-wan nodded. "It's different now. It's quiet..."  
  
Qui-gon concurred absently. "Ok..." he whispered. The two fixed eyes and sat in silence for many minutes. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
Shadows swallowed the high Council room as the rain clouds aligned themselves in the sky. The morning's brilliance was gone. Qui-gon and Master Yoda stood together at the large picture windows looking out over an endlessly busy Corcusant. Yoda smiled with self-congratulation at the request Qui-gon had just bequeathed.  
  
"Remain here you would like, eh? A change that is. What reasons have you?"  
  
"I'm still feeling a bit worn down. After my close call, perhaps it would be wise to slow down a bit. I don't want to push it." Yoda nodded calmly but was extremely delighted, if not surprised. Heeding my word you are. Rest, you should. Refused you did, and now wisely you act. Your purpose I know. The boy it is that keeps you  
  
Qui-gon had no words of reproach, but simply turned his eyes to the floor with a small, defeated even, grin. Yoda gladly gave his consent and Qui-gon left for his quarters just as the first thunder broke the sky.  
  
His claim to fatigue wasn't a total myth. He did feel a bit weak, as if he had just run a great distance. Giving himself time to heal was the right thing to do. But again, a few weeks ago, he wouldn't have given it a second thought. He would have been gone already. And, peculiar as it was, he was staying because of Obi wan's plea. "I'm acting as though I have an apprentice again," he thought.  
  
An apprentice. That evening, Qui-gon sat in the silence of his apartment, sipping tea, and resting himself properly. His thoughts did mull over the possibility of playing the part of a parent again. It made him nervous. He was not by any stretch of the imagination comfortable with the idea, but not totally willing to rule it out. Qui-gon had to admit it: there was a bond between Obi-wan and himself. Xantos' actions were the will of the Force; therefore this connection was also the product of the Force. Who was he to deny it?  
  
Qui-gon got up after a long thinking session, preparing to go to bed early. He would consider all angles of the situation again and make his decision based on what he felt he had to do. As he left the room, an awkward brown lump caught the corner of his eye on the chair by the door. It was Obi- wan's robe. The youngster had left without it that morning and would probably be wondering where it was by tomorrow. Qui-gon decided to walk it down to the nursery. He fed himself the excuse that he could stand to stretch his legs a bit, anyway.  
  
At this hour, Qui-gon had expected to find a quiet, peaceful nursery, full of sleeping children and tired Healers. But what he found was nothing short of a massacre scene. The children were wide-awake, chasing each other around, laughing, some complaining because they had been pushed down, and none of them responding to the Healer's demands for quiet. Some of the Healer's were on comlinks, their free hand covering their other ear. Observing, Qui-gon got a sick, frantic feeling in his stomach. He ran up to one of the Healer's trying to round up the rowdy children. Without any question, or introduction, he blurted out:  
  
"It's Obi-wan, isn't it?" The Healer turned with a surprised countenance.  
  
"What's happened?" Qui-gon urged.  
  
"He's run off again. We can't find him. He does this periodically, slips out and..." Qui-gon pushed the tiny brown robe into the woman's hands and retreated to the door. He looked down the long corridors, trying to get a signal. It took only moments: left. He took off in a jog, not even thinking about what he was doing. He was only concentrated on finding Obi-wan Kenobi.  
  
Obi-wan stopped at a new intersection of hallways. He looked in all directions, before deciding to continue straight. He had now managed to get himself completely lost which was precisely what he had intended to accomplish. Obi knew that sneaking out was against the rules. It wasn't that he liked being disobedient, but in this case, breaking a rule to escape the other initiates wasn't worth a second thought.  
  
It really didn't even involve him being picked on. But he felt so out of place. It was mainly because his Force sensitivity had begun to develop due to the bond that was growing between him and Qui-gon. Obi-wan was essentially different from the other kids, and not even sure of what made him odd, they sensed it, and often took to shunning him.  
  
Of course the Healer's intervened, but that just made it worse. Forcing Obi-wan in with the others just put up bigger barriers. He felt so misunderstood. If only there was someone who could see where he was coming from, and to accept it. Yeah, if only...  
  
At this point in his escape, Obi-wan came to doors leading outside. It was dark and still raining but it seemed a better hideout than anywhere inside. Obi-wan pushed open the heavy door, and stepped into the cold, driving shower.  
  
Seven minutes. Qui-gon had been following Obi-wan's trail, jogging every length of hallway. Never once did he question what he was doing. Never once did he consider stopping and letting someone else handle it. And it wasn't even so much the Force guiding him as instinct. It was as though he had known the child all his life. He stopped at an intersection of corridors. This youngster sure had gone all over the place, clearly without a definite destination. Straight. Qui-gon began jogging again. Wait a minute, he thought. This passage just leads to... doors.  
  
"Oh God," he winced. His heart started racing. If Obi-wan got outside, a million things could happen. If the boy got lost, Qui-gon would find him, no question. But before that, who knows. He could get hurt on the streets, pushed around by the constant, pulsing crowd, desperate for air. He could seek relief in an ally. A predator could slip out of a darkened doorway, grab him, and, well... Force knows what.  
  
By now, Qui-gon was running though the down pour, confident of his direction, but definitely unhappy about it. He had been hoping the boy would stay in the Temple's huge grounds, but Obi-wan had taken off straight out of them, probably unknowingly. Depending on how far ahead Obi-wan was, he could have reached the streets by now. The city's lights were coming into view, as Qui-gon rounded a corner.  
  
The Temple grounds ended, and it was as if Qui-gon had changed worlds. He hit the crowds, full force, swirling around him. It seemed as though they were deliberately trying to stop him from following his signal. Gridlock, in every direction. It seemed impossible, but with a deep breath, Qui-gon could resume. These weren't the worst of streets, not yet. He pushed his way through, still trying to keep a fast pace, and got to a corner on an intersection. Qui-gon felt the force throb through the fateful bond, and he knew he was right on top of Obi-wan.  
  
With an amazing flare of luck, Qui-gon spotted Obi-wan walking on the block ahead. He shot through the traffic, but was crippled by the crowds, lost sight of Obi-wan. Then this corner came into sight and Qui-gon saw Obi-wan just about to step off the curb when he made a desperate effort, shoved through, and got his balance enough to throw his right arm totally around in front of the young boy, ending the relay at last. Obi-wan let out a minor shriek, but Qui-gon lifted the boy up and escaped into a threshold.  
  
When they faced each other, both breathing hard, Obi-wan didn't even look surprised. He just collapsed against Qui-gon sobbing. Qui-gon didn't react for a minute. He had forgotten what this felt like, forgotten what to do. But he was becoming humanized again, and he held the boy, kneeling down to look him in the eyes. The boy looked scared and was shivering. Qui-gon rapped his own soaked cloak around the boy and held him again. He waited patiently, and a little weakly, waiting for Obi-wan to talk.  
  
"I'm sorry, Master Jinn. I know I shouldn't do that...but I... I got so scared, and,"  
  
"Obi-wan, I know. I do. I understand. You feel different, out of place. When I was as little as you, I felt that too. I know it's hard."  
  
"You... (sniffles)... you did?"  
  
"Yes. But eventually it went away. And I became a Padawan like everyone else. The same will happen for you."  
  
"The others, they tease me. They say it won't. I just get upset. I know I shouldn't break the rules..."  
  
"Obi-wan, you may be in trouble with the Healers, but I find very little fault with you. I'll see to it that you aren't punished. And, next time you get upset, you know what you could do? Instead of running out, maybe you can ask one of the Healers to let you come see me. How would that be?" Little Obi's face cleared and through tear-stained cheeks came that classic smile.  
  
"Come here," Qui-gon said. And Obi-wan gave him the hardest hug he could fester. Qui-gon was swept away by himself, the child, and what this bond had become. And even so, the urge to fight it was dying, and somehow, he just knew it was right. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
The late-afternoon sun blinded Qui-gon temporarily as he left the Temple gates and boarded the transport. A week after his Obi-wan hunt, Qui-gon was sneaking out on a mission, hoping to be back before the little one could notice. Yoda had let Qui-gon select a mission, and as one might have guessed, it was the safest as could be. Qui-gon was going alone this time, and Yoda could not have been more pleased to see things working out so beautifully. The recent events had left him almost hysterical with pleasure.  
  
After the incident on the street, Qui-gon had taken Obi-wan back to the Healers, explained the situation, and had Obi-wan excused. The Healers had asked no questions as to why the Master was giving this young initiate free- rein on his quarters, for some of them knew Qui-gon, knew what had become of him, and felt a change. They relayed all these occurrences to Yoda, who was now sure that the duration of one more mission would make up Qui-gon's mind.  
  
Qui-gon was aware of all this, and felt confident himself. Taking another Padawan was no longer foreign or threatening. It was right. The transport took off and headed to the near by planet on which ground Qui-gon would decide his future.  
  
Obi-wan's head jerked upright. There was that feeling again. At first the flame, the power, and then emptiness. Qui-gon was gone, or leaving. The little boy dropped his crayon and ran up to one of the Healers.  
  
"May I please go see Master Qui-gon?"  
  
"Have you finished your drawing yet, Obi-wan?"  
  
"Almost, I just have a little left. Please, it's really important." The Healer wanted to say no, as were the rules, but Yoda's words came to her. He had said to let to boy go when he asked. Let him follow the Force, let the two be together. The Healer sighed.  
  
"Alright, Obi-wan. But don't spend all afternoon there. You have to come back and finish your work. Do you need help getting there?"  
  
"No, I know the way. Thank you!" And the child skipped out of the room. When Obi-wan reached the Master's quarters, he was about to buzz the door, but stopped. Qui-gon wasn't in there and he knew it. He had left. Tears of frustration and fear swept to his eyes. He had left when Obi-wan had begged him not to. It scared him so much; he was terrified that sometime Qui-gon might not come back home at all.  
  
Wearily, Obi-wan trudged back to the nursery. Yoda was there when the child arrived and led him to a room where they could talk alone. Yoda questioned young Obi-wan about his feelings, and came to the conclusions he had hoped for. Things were going just perfect for him. Everything was going to be fine.  
  
The mission had been going smoothly, but it was somewhat depressing. The planet had a strong government, low violence, and a sturdy economy. All aspects of a healthy future had been in effect, until the Prime Minister's oldest son got power-hungry. The strong-willed man of 21 built a party of his own, a ruling of his own, and wanted nothing more than to crush his father's power and take over the entire world for himself. It was very saddening to watch this great leader's decisions so pained. The country or his kin? Either way, he lost. Qui-gon had given his council and was aware he was needed until definite plans for action could be put to work. But Yoda had other procedures in mind.  
  
One day, in the middle of session, Qui-gon's comlink buzzed. With a touch of annoyance, he slipped out of the debate. It was Yoda.  
  
" Come home you must, Qui-gon. Decisions need to be made. Present you must be." " What kind of decisions, Master?"  
  
" No time to explain there is. Come home you must." Yoda's speech was disrupted by conspicuous chuckles. Qui-gon had his eyebrows furrowed.  
  
" Master, this mission is not complete. I feel very uneasy leaving it until it has come to a safe conclusion. Many lives hang in a balance and..."  
  
" No, Qui-gon, stay you cannot. Replace you we will. Come home you must." Yoda chuckled strangely again, but before Qui-gon could respond, Yoda cut the link. Qui-gon rolled his eyes and sighed. The old master was up to something no doubt, something mischievous. Qui-gon decided he would wait until the debate took a recess before departing. That recess was just coming a little sooner than expected.  
  
Yoda looked at Windu with laughing eyes.  
  
" Working our plan is, Mace. Coming he is. The Padawan ceremonies we will hold. Choose Obi-wan he will. Time healed the mistakes. Qui-gon we will see again. The Qui-gon we know."  
  
" That does sound good my master. I've sure missed him."  
  
" As have I. Restore his trust this will and..." Yoda's shinning eyes faded, drifted far away. A sick, sinking feeling enveloped him. Mace almost questioned Yoda's strange actions but the bleak disturbance rippled over him as well. They sat with drained faces for a long moment.  
  
" Oh Force..." Mace choked out. He swallowed hard. " Try his comlink..." Yoda ever so slowly reached out and pushed the button. The call didn't go through. Yoda closed his eyes.  
  
" I'll send a team," Mace whispered. But he didn't get up. He just sat there in disbelief, letting it hit him again and again and again. 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
Heavy smoke and dust choked the area. Fires raged all around the rubble; slabs of concrete lay everywhere. A shock wave of pain rippled through Qui- gon Jinn's body. He couldn't feel his legs: they were pinned by part of the ceiling. Ash stung his eyes and lungs as he tried to make sense of this massacre. There was no warning; he had walked back in the room, and then he was on the ground. The cracking of the fires was all Qui-gon heard; no one else screamed in pain or begged for help. He knew this was the son's doing. His greed could wait no longer, and now the capitol and his father were destroyed and the reins of power hung free. All he need do was reach out and take them.  
  
Qui-gon winced hard as he tried to move his legs. Finding it impossible, he concentrated just long enough to lift it with the Force, and drag his lifeless legs out from under its grasp. Limping heavily, Qui-gon made his way around what was a minute ago the debate room. He could hear no survivors, much less see them. The assault knocked out the wall to the inner courtyard. Qui-gon stumbled to it and stepped outside only to find that the entire residence was in flames. People were running in all directions in mass hysteria, their screams drowned out only by the attack ships that swooped overhead.  
  
Qui-gon saw many people rushing to a large shelter- a generator room, which could hold a reasonable amount of people in safety. His brain was telling him to help; carry the injured, save lives. But his body couldn't. Qui-gon stood there on legs suddenly unwilling to move; his vision became blurry and he knew that he probably had severe head injuries.  
  
"No," he thought, " I have to help." He tried to push himself forward, but collapsed. Another roaring engine seared overhead, and dropped its weapon in the middle of the courtyard, but Qui-gon didn't even see it.  
  
"Obi-wan?" whispered a healer into the pitch-black room. Quiet sobs were the only answer she received. The healer walked into the room and turned the lights to the dimmest setting. She wove her way through the beds to Obi- wan's, and discovered he was certainly the one awake.  
  
The child sat pushed up against the headboard of his tiny bed, quivering and crying. He looked at the healer with terrified eyes.  
  
" Obi-wan, what is it? What's wrong?" the healer asked gently, sitting next to him.  
  
Obi-wan could not soon answer, but the woman was patient, and within a few minutes she heard the name "Qui-gon" spoken.  
  
" Master Jinn?" She repeated. Obi-wan nodded, unable to say more. Suddenly, Obi-wan screamed out as if in pain, holding his left side severely. The healer jumped to her feet, and tried to hold the boy, scanning for injuries. She found nothing.  
  
The healer scooped Obi-wan into her arms and raced out into the common room. Something told her Master Jinn was in trouble and Obi-wan's bond with him was suffering as well. About to signal Master Yoda, the healer looked up to find Yoda had already entered the nursery. His countenance disturbed her.  
  
"Shielded him I did, for as long as I could. Find out he would eventually." Yoda spoke slowly and sadly.  
  
" What's wrong?" she choked, still holding Obi-wan, who's face was twisted in grimace.  
  
Yoda explained all he knew, and the healer noticed tears in his eyes. Obi- wan settled into fitful sleep, somehow eased. Yoda said he would take the boy, and keep him overnight. The healer watched the old Master leave, then returned to her room, where she cried softly. She sensed Yoda had no hope; Obi-wan would be crushed. 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
  
Prince Kalizan lay reclined on the couch of the marble terrace. The spot, overlooking a gorgeous landscape, was the most glorious view from what was until recently his fathers' country palace. The fresh, clean air relaxed him, even as his doctor performed his daily examination.  
  
His physician's assistant read off the ruler's blood pressure numbers. Kalizan saw the doctor's mouth tighten, but the older man said nothing, just brushed his eyes briefly at the assistant, signaling him to leave. Once the extra pair of ears was gone, the doctor sat down on his stool with a tired sigh, and proceeded in taking the Prince's pulse the old fashioned way.  
  
"Ralant,"- the doctor was one of very few who could refer to Kalizan by his first name, " I know you did not go to the meeting yesterday afternoon. I clearly remember demanding that you not attend." The doctor's eyes remained pinned on his watch. He relinquished the Prince's wrist and directed his imploring eyes into Ralant's.  
  
" Aran, I had t..."  
  
"No, Ralant. No. You did not. Your blood pressure is atrocious. I do not dare calculate how much it has risen."  
  
Ralant said nothing. A bit ashamed, he put his eyes to his hands in his lap and prepared for the coming lecture.  
  
"It's been four years now," Aran began, his tone dropped—pleading. "Four years I have kept it from killing you. You know summer is the dangerous time. Three months, Ralant, just three. The rest of the year the disease is much more dormant, but for this short time, you must be careful. You must rest. I ask so little, but this is everything. One bad decision and it would overtake you. One sleepless night, one day with drained energy, and it would seize you. Try as I might, there would be nothing I could do."  
  
The Prince looked at his friend with a blank expression. Aran drilled his blue eyes into Kalizan with an unmistakable purpose of saying, "This is not a joke, I'm not making this up." Ralant turned his gaze back to the scenery as Aran finished up on him, administering his daily medication. They parted without words and Ralant was immediately in the company of his second in command as the doctor left.  
  
" Ah, Deraloy, what good news do you bare today?" Ralant had now acquitted the couch and was sitting at his desk with Deraloy standing in front of it.  
  
" It would be a stretch, sir, to call it good news." Deraloy spoke of the capitol still being a disaster zone. The people, who had been thrown back to the dark ages with most utilities knocked out, were not revolting, but instead, shamefully trying to pick up the pieces. The major section of the capitol that was bombed was far from being cleared and crews were working constantly. Ralant Kalizan listened with interest, but no surprise.  
  
" In short, sir, the people need help. They need explanation."  
  
" Then help them!" Kalizan nearly shouted, getting to his feet. "Money is no longer an issue and I have no wish to break the people even before a new government can firmly seat itself. But, Deraloy, by no means will they be given explanation—yet. This is my reign, not his. I will not indulge their need for soft words and actions."  
  
Deraloy smiled. " Prince Kalizan, I assure you, no part of your father's rule shall ever be brought into consideration. We are strong, and we can only get stronger. But let us examine history. You have put these people into shock. They have gone from your father's weak gentleness, which controlled an economy content to just stay healthy, to you—a ruler of insight, opportunity and ambition, who will not merely be healthy, but conquer and thrive.  
  
"For them, this is the most drastic change that could be made. I have no doubt, my Prince, that they will come to love you, respect you, and thrive with you, but if we try to change all these things too fast, there will be revolution. And even this peaceful society could arrange revolts that would be unstoppable."  
  
Prince Kalizan considered this for a long while. He stood from his desk and walked back to the balcony to stand in the breeze, his under rank behind him. Finally, Ralant nodded his head.  
  
" I want more of our men down there today, helping. Offer more relief money, whatever you need to wipe this tragedy from their eyes quickly. We have so much to be, Deraloy," Ralant strained. " We must prove it to them."  
  
Deraloy bowed deeply and prepared to leave. Kalizan gently caught his arm.  
  
" Did they... find his body?" Ralant asked quietly, child-like. His eyes held concern the prince couldn't fight. His commanding officer simply shook his head. Kalizan turned away.  
  
" I'm sorry, father," he muttered to no one in an unsteady voice. " I'm sorry you couldn't see the future my way." 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
  
Senator Tyndale wiped away the sweat from his dirty forehead. The hot sun beat on him hard, as if enough heat wasn't seeping from the smoldering rubble. For three days, he had toiled with his fellow citizens, dazed by the sudden violence and death of their leader, mindlessly searching for anything to remind them of the life they had. They were all too aware that the government they had known was not to return.  
  
He stood erect slowly, his back slightly rippling in pain from being arched over the piles of concrete for so long. Tyndale glanced around the once flourishing courtyard, which was now used as a dumping ground for the ruins of the decimated east wing of the capitol. Sighing, Tyndale leaned over and sifted through more rubble, searching for meaning in the jagged rock that ate at his hands.  
  
Soon, the lunch siren rang, and his Grace, Prince Kalizan saved them all from the torturing sun. A mediocre meal would be provided at the grand expense of his Highness, and even a bit of water would be most amiably spared for each parched man. Such rewards for such uplifting work!  
  
But as Tyndale turned for the kitchen tent, a strange brown tuft sticking out between two slabs of concrete tugged his eye. Carefully, he brushed some of the smaller, softball sized rocks off the slabs, revealing light brown hair.  
  
" Oh my hell," the senator gasped. Not one body had been recovered from beneath the double layered debris. Straining, he was able to push one slab off to the right just far enough to see a face. With disbelieving eyes, Tyndale was fixed upon the bruised and bleeding countenance that he had come to respect in a very short time.  
  
" Hey! You there..." the stern voice of the guard shook him. Tyndale turned.  
  
" It's lunch- get a move on."  
  
He nodded, half-bowing, and made to move towards the tent. " Yes, sir," he replied. The Prince's officer turned, convinced Tyndale was coming, but the middle-aged man swiftly returned to his discovery, and as gently as he could, hid it away once more.  
  
Lunch, as usual, was not much to speak of. Be that as it was, Tyndale would still devour it, but today he could only pick at the bread, and push the beans about his plate. Casually, Senator Tyndale's close colleague sat across from him and said nothing. Senator Perany, an older gentleman, had tutored Tyndale in his first years seated in the senate. Tyndale, about 17 years Perany's junior, looked about before leaning in to whisper his news.  
  
" I found someone. Beneath the rubble. I'm not sure if he's dead." Perany, unable to control his shock, whipped his head up. But, he knew enough to keep quiet verbally; obviously there was a reason Tyndale didn't alert anyone else.  
  
" It's him," Tyndale continued gravely. " The Jedi. I didn't have a chance to check, but if he's still alive..." Perany nodded, at once understanding.  
  
" They'd kill him. Damn it, they would do it in a minute." Now the elder shook his head in disapproval. " What do you plan to do?"  
  
" If he's alive, we need to hide him. If we could get him back to his planet then someone would know the truth and help us. Kalizan is telling all inquiring minds he had nothing to do with the attacks, that he mourns his father."  
  
The old senator pondered. The Jedi was their only hope, but this was expensive hope. If they were caught with him, their lives wouldn't be spared. The Prince's men worked at the site all night. Retrieving him wouldn't be simple either.  
  
" Sometime during the night, they must rest. When they do, we'll move him."  
  
Tucked in the only shadow of the floodlight lit disaster zone, Tyndale and Perany waited in tense silence. The night crew was slowly meandering away from their hiding spot. Their window of opportunity opened, and they carefully removed the slabs from around Qui-gon's body.  
  
At first glance, Perany refused to believe that he could possibly be alive. Judging by the amount of blood surrounding the Jedi, Tyndale's elder nearly left him, but as the voices of Kalizan's army drew close once more, the two friends gently pulled Qui-gon out of his tomb, and raced back to their homes. 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10  
  
Obi-wan Kenobi had aged decades in the three days he was absent from the nursery. His face was a sick gray pallor; his eyes were bruised and blurry. No vestige of childhood remained in the one so young. The boy's mind was plagued with agony and fear many adults never undergo.  
  
Mace Windu stood in the doorway of the nursery, Obi-wan in front of him. All the healers and other initiates had gathered to welcome Obi-wan home, but Mace had to gently lay his hand on Kenobi's back to get him to move from his side. The child moved so slowly and carefully, his tiny frame so sore, and put his arms around the head healer's waist. She embraced him back, rustling his hair soothingly. But Obi-wan pulled a way, and limped to the bedroom, disappearing around the corner. No one spoke for a long while.  
  
"He has barely slept since Master Yoda took him," Mace finally forced out. "We tried to help him control it, but...but he's just exhausted. He won't eat. The boy's just too sick." The healer nodded.  
  
"Get some rest, Master Windu. We'll take care of him as best we can now." Mace thanked her, and turned away, shoulders slumped.  
  
The children said very little the rest of the day. The healers were overcome with sadness, and Obi-wan just lay on his bed, staring at space, in far too much pain to think of sleep. He wouldn't talk to anyone, no matter how they tried. For hours they tried to get him to eat, or at least to move. It was useless; Obi-wan Kenobi, five years of age, had given up on existence. 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11  
  
Senator Perany rung out the cloth in the cool water, looked over the body before him, and had no idea where to begin. With each passing minute it seemed like a mathematical impossibility for the Jedi's chest to ever so slightly rise and fall. It was going to be a long night...  
  
Gently, the old statesman cleaned Qui-gon's face. It was so bruised it hardly looked clean. Somehow they had managed to remove his tunic--it was nearly imbedded in his skin. The only assurance they had that his head wasn't fatally damaged was the fact that he kept breathing. His left leg was quite obviously broken in more than one place. In the dim, hidden room of Tyndale's home, it was becoming painfully obvious that if Qui-gon was going to survive the next few days, he needed treatment soon.  
  
"A friend of mine just brought word that Kalizan's men have been discussing a Jedi attack," Tyndale announced as he joined his elder in the underground safe haven. "Apparently, Kalizan has given orders for the army to form ranks."  
  
"Well let's hope it's sooner rather than later. That will be our only chance to save him," Perany anxiously shot back.  
  
"Yeah..." Tyndale trailed. "Is there nothing we can do for him?"  
  
"I've dressed as many wounds as I can. But we have no way to tell if he's internally bleeding. He could be dead within the hour. Look if Kalizan pushes them around enough, the Jedi will strike. Right now, he's wondering why they are taking interest in his little party at all, and when he figures it out, well, we need a way out of this, Tyndale."  
  
Prince Kalizan slammed the report on his mahogany desk, screaming for Deraloy. He appeared from the next room, bowing and awaiting command.  
  
"What in CARNATION IS GOING ON? Do you mean to tell me that these Jedi actually believe we have one of their people? Deraloy, I specifically remember asking you to keep all and any interested parties separate from our operations here. I absolutely DO NOT NEED these people coming to visit!"  
  
"Sir, you would have been informed earlier if we had thought there was any credibility to their inquiry. We simply did not think that there was any possible way a Jedi could have been harmed in our attacks."  
  
"And? This has changed?"  
  
The general cleared his throat uneasily. "It was discovered that...that on the day of our initial attacks there was a Jedi Master present with your father's council."  
  
Kalizan could only blink. Disastrous. And so it would begin—the first step to the end. "What do I do now? Send flowers? I suppose since we cannot produce a body, they expect to conduct their own investigation. Excellent, Deraloy, excellent. They land their ships on a pile of rubble where the natives of this planet toil endlessly to clear it. They will never see me for what I am; all they will see is an overseer, with the whip in his hand, beating them on and on—the royal slave driver! Yes..." He let out a helpless laugh. "Yes, Deraloy, all of this to end up the slave driver! And the Jedi to release them from my bondage." Ralant let his arms fall limp to his side as he wandered to the balcony and dropped to the couch. Deraloy followed slowly, hearing him whisper "All is lost." He knelt before his master.  
  
"My prince, I swear it on my life that your conquest and glory shall not be compromised. There are hundreds of bodies never to be found. The army upon which we currently rest is strong, honorable. They will fight if so ordered, and they will be victorious. Surely your spirits could not be so easily dampened. There is not an obstacle here which cannot be mastered." Kalizan smiled dimly at this, reassured. He turned determined, but uncommonly tired eyes to his general.  
  
"Get some rest, sir. The rest of today's assignments can wait. I will settle this matter with the Jedi at once." The Prince nodded, swung his legs onto the sofa and made an attempt to sleep, only to open his eyes again moments later. 


	12. Chapter 12

AUTHOR'S NOTE: First of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH to all my incredible reviewers. You guys brought this story back to life. I did get a lot of praise for it awhile back, but my life got flip turned this past year, and I had to abandon it. I was really afraid all the fans of it had long forgotten—but you proved me wrong. I really lost a friend for awhile when I wasn't working on this story. You have all my graditutude.  
Oh, and to MistiWhiteSun—you do not have to go back and re-read. I just split the same story into chapters.  
So here are chapters 12-15. 16 is on the way...  
  
Chapter 12  
  
"I wish there was more I could do for you, but as affairs stand, I can only reiterate that the Jedi is dead and our sympathies. Recovery of his body is not expected; in nearly a week only four bodies have been found at all. Furthermore, we recognize your interest in searching yourself, but we are swamped as it is. More people and ships would only add to the congestion and confusion, which is why we have closed most importing for the time being."  
  
A few council members muttered to one another. Mace Windu leaned toward the hologram of Deraloy.  
  
"So there is no chance, then, that our Jedi will be recovered?" Mace questioned in a fake tone. All the council knew this man was lying—and not even lying well.  
  
"There is no... no chance," Deraloy stumbled, and abruptly ended the communication. The council lapsed back into discussion. Yoda turned to Mace.  
  
"Alive he might be. A disturbance of his death I have not felt." Windu nodded in thoughtful concurrence.  
  
Without warning, the high council room's doors were shoved open and Mace jumped to his feet in surprise at the interruption. It was Obi-wan, panting, and his cheeks stained with tears.  
  
"He's alive..." Obi-wan's hoarse voice managed. "I can feel it. He's alive." Smiling slightly, the boy straightened himself, still crying. Yoda made a hopeful sigh, and leaned back in his chair. 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13  
  
At last there were images—foggy and gray, but snapshots came upon him in the form of an elusive dream. It was the first consciousness Qui-gon Jinn could remember in what seemed like his entire life. In this partial awake ness he began to realize he had no feeling in his body.  
  
Just before the notion of opening his heavy eyes came to him, Obi-wan's small body flashed in his mind. The boy lay sobbing, contorted in pain, screaming "Qui-gon." Qui-gon's instinct to move thrashed through him, and the war with himself began. His body, reaction delayed, quaked at his attempt to sit up, and numbness melted into indescribable pain.  
  
Paroxysms held Qui-gon down as if the concrete slab was still pinning him. Opening his throat to scream, the pain only worsened. He couldn't get his eyes to move. Perany, who was sitting close by, could only watch in disbelief for a moment. Then, shouting for Tyndale, tried to hold down the Jedi's broken legs, because his violent shaking looked as though it would cause the bones to break the skin. Tyndale arrived by his elder's side, sickened by the smothered scream coming from the injured body.  
  
"He's having some sort of seizer," Perany guessed, "from the head injuries I imagine." All Qui-gon saw was white—white pain all around, in everything. But Obi- wan's picture was still swimming in his head, scaring him with the love of a father. Delusional, as numbness Qui-gon now welcomed retook his limbs, he tried to call to Obi-wan and take the child's pain unto himself. Tyndale heard Qui-gon say the name in an exhale. He glanced at Perany.  
  
The two senators watched as the Jedi's breathing hollowed out and he returned to the death-like coma. Panting, they separately acknowledged the severity of the situation. Anything more like that and their last hope would be dead.  
  
"Who's Obi-wan?" Tyndale questioned. Perany shook his head.  
  
"Maybe it's his son."  
  
The council whispered in relieved tones among one another as Mace Windu smiled at little Obi-wan. The boy stood before them beaming even though his eyes still watered. Yoda sensed that Obi-wan was in almost complete contact with the small bond he had with Qui-gon—a bond Qui-gon had been unable to acknowledge yet pain still crept through it. Mace too was glad to find that the bond on Qui-gon's end had been nudged into existence once more. Yoda tried to intervene slightly, knowing at any moment Qui-gon could pass along something uncontrollable.  
  
It was too late. Obi-wan was on the tile, shivering in all directions, whimpering in agony. The council collectively tried to block the bond, take what they could from the child to ease his suffering. But soon Obi-wan was unconscious in Mace's arms and his seizer over. Mace turned to Yoda in shock and ran from the room. Someone whispered, "He's gone..." 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  
  
A steady rain was falling as Prince Kalizan toured the bombing sites with Deraloy and a montage of other officials. The Prince praised Deraloy's swift work; only a week ago there had been nowhere to walk in the area. Now, it was almost completely cleared, and reconstruction had already begun. All citizens who had been forced into labor had been released, yet still monitored closely. Deraloy expressed he was convinced those actions had prevented revolution and instilled respect on the planet.  
  
Near the site, the Prince's royal army stood in ranks—impressive in number. Kalizan, utterly pleased by this demonstration, ordered a podium to be procured so that he might address his troops. While waiting, Deraloy whispered in his superior's ear developments regarding the missing Jedi.  
  
"I expressed to the Jedi's High Council our sympathies and profound assurances that no body was to be found and that they were most unwelcome here at the time. I've had men conducting random searches of residences and other areas just to be safe." Ralant Kalizan's face drifted to a frown for the first time all day.  
  
"Those searches must stop. We are only perturbing the people by invading their homes looking for a body that doesn't exist. He's dead, Deraloy. The Jedi's dead."  
  
"Your highness, I have little doubt of that myself, but if the Jedi are not convinced and they come here looking—"  
  
"If they come, let them come, Deraloy. Look around you. This army is ready to beat them back, and I will not hesitate to give the order."  
  
With that, Kalizan briskly climbed the podium taking in the applause from his invincible army. He spoke powerfully for many minutes with praise, raising the pulses of his troops with spontaneous suggestions of conquests past, present, and future.  
  
But amidst the thunderous cheers as Ralant paused, daggers pierced his insides. So sudden and violent it nearly knocked him down, the Prince forced a smile but shot a glance down below at Aran. The physician had noticed immediately, and gave Kalizan a worried, half-angry stare. Turning away, Prince Kalizan finished his speech:  
  
"Today, as I look out on this sea of power, I know that victory shall come swiftly and fiercely in all we strive to achieve and no matter what the cause, what the purpose, how impending or futuristic the call may be, when I order my men into battle, your response will be 'Which way lies our field?'"  
  
Hysteria from the crowd, but it was nearly lost on the Prince as he struggled with the fading pain. He kept atop the podium, smiling and waving, preserving image.   
  
Yards away, Tyndale stood at the open window of his home, listening. He shook his head solemnly; he was becoming more convinced that there might not be a way to let anyone in this galaxy know what had happened. Kalizan was too powerful, too controlling, and too good at living a lie.  
  
Perany had been listening to the Prince too, and seemed genuinely pleased at what he heard.  
  
"Your young ears didn't read deep enough, Tyndale. His emphasis on battles was not for show. And it isn't as if he's just going to start trying to take over other planets just yet. He's just told us everything we need to know. The Jedi are breathing down his neck. They could be here within days!" Laughing joyously, the old senator patted Tyndale's shoulder, who remained unconvinced.   
  
Jumping off the last two steps, Prince Kalizan tried to look energetic though drowsiness threatened his every movement. Aran, not fooled, took Deraloy aside.  
  
"Move the group along if there is still more to see. I need to speak with the Prince alone." Deraloy read Aran's eyes uneasily, and then called to one of his officers suggesting a tour of a weapon assembly plant nearby. The officials moved on enthusiastically, not noticing the Prince stayed behind. Aran led Ralant by the elbow to a boulder and sat him down, Deraloy following.  
  
"Ralant," Aran began, "where was the pain? Was it in your arms or legs?" Distantly, the Prince shook his head. Aran did his best to judge a pulse.  
  
"Your heart rate is already back to normal. That's a good sign. How severe was it, Ralant, comparatively?"  
  
"It's been worse," the Prince muttered. "It subsided quickly; I think I'm alright, Aran." Shaking his head, the doctor tried to read Ralant's temperature. Even in the cool rain, he seemed uncomfortably warm.  
  
"We need to go home, Ralant. Now. I want you in bed, resting for a few days." Kalizan rose, his strong build and height making him appear stable over Aran's shorter stature. He ran his fingers through his thick blonde hair.  
  
"Aran, do you have any idea...my God, the next few days I have a city to rebuild, another planet to keep from invading us, an army to raise, and economic meetings galore. Not to mention, a damned new government to be running! Look, I'll be fine—this was just a ...a mishap." The Prince turned away.  
  
"Ralant, this was a warning. The heaviness and exhaustion you're feeling right now are only the beginning. Next time this happens, I promise you, it will be ten times worse and it may very well be more than a warning. Please Ralant. You aren't a child anymore, I can't force you. But for your own good, just rest awhile."  
  
"Your highness," Deraloy finally chimed in, "I will personally attend every meeting and ward off the Jedi if more problems arise. Your health is not worth compromising for these things, sir."  
  
"And what will you tell them, Deraloy? When they ask for their leader? Certainly we cannot tell them the truth. That would be political suicide. There is a reason only the three of us know about this..."  
  
"A young leader with a new government to run has many responsibilities. It will not be hard to make your excuses for having to be elsewhere." Aran nodded in agreement. The Prince's energy was so deeply depleted he found no reason to argue longer. Sitting back down, he told Deraloy to call his transport over.  
  
Aran stood next to him, looking gravely at the horizon, thinking "If there is a God, don't take him this time. All these years when you could have, _just don't make it this time_." 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15  
  
Mace Windu and Yoda stood outside the room where Obi-wan Kenobi lay. The child was so still he scarcely drew breath. The head healer looked over his vitals one last time before joining the masters out in the hallway.  
  
"Well," she sighed, "he's stable. He isn't in a coma and from what I can tell so far, no permanent damage has been done." Mace and Yoda looked relieved; the healer continued.  
  
"But, if this were to keep happening... He's very young and these past days have been so difficult for him, and for his body. I think we need to seriously consider severing the bond."  
  
Yoda shook his wise head vigorously. "Do that we must not," he grunted. " Cause more pain that would, to both of them. Young the bond is, yet attached deeply Obi-wan is."  
  
"Master Yoda, Obi-wan is our mirror for what Qui-gon is experiencing, but you know it is merely a shadow of what Qui-gon is actually going through. In my medical opinion, Qui-gon does not have long to live if he is not receiving treatment, and we cannot allow a 5 year-old to be our medium for death."  
  
"If Qui-gon died, Obi-wan would not die too. Bonds are rarely that strong," Mace explained. "Yet, we know Qui-gon does not have control over the bond right now and it would be devastating if Obi-wan had the blunt impact of Qui-gon's passing. Master Yoda and I have interfered with the bond and we control what passes through it. Obi-wan shouldn't suffer anymore."  
  
The healer nodded, turning to look at the child. "As you see fit," she called softly and returned to her ward.  
  
"Discuss with the council we must what to do next. Not sure am I what actions to take." Yoda sighed tiredly. Mace bowed with respect, and left to assemble the council.  
  
Tyndale stood watch behind the curtains, making sure Perany's visitor hadn't been followed. The elder senator had managed to contact his physician and smuggled him over to look at the Jedi. They had waited until after dark, but it wasn't impossible for them to be caught, even if the Prince had ordered the end of residential searches.  
  
In the lower level of the house, Dr. Anders examined the damaged body before him. Through his seventy years of life, he had practiced medicine in the harshest of war zones, and from that experience Anders was shocked the Jedi continued to live.  
  
"Well, he's not internally bleeding at least. He'd be dead by now. As for his other injuries, all we can do is keep changing the bandages."  
  
"What about the seizer?" Perany asked.  
  
"From what you described, it was caused by head injuries that are obviously not severe enough to kill him. But they must be treated. I have nothing I can give him for that; we'll just have to wait and pray. I'll bring you all the bandages I can, and some splints for his legs. I'll figure out a way to get some fluids in him."  
  
"There's nothing else we can do?" The doctor shook his head.  
  
"It's amazing he's made it this far. My supplies are severely limited, but I'll bring everything I can tonight. It would be better if we didn't have to worry about being discovered 'cause I could monitor him more closely, but...well, you know."  
  
"He's our last change, Anders." Perany pled. Dr. Anders sighed.  
  
"Don't get your hopes up," was all he could say.  
  
With the council assembled, Mace stood before them presenting their options: Invade the planet where they aren't welcome and attack an army that they couldn't fight and save Qui-gon, or give him up for dead. Despite the numerous downsides to the former, Mace obviously voted for it. Master Da'li wasted no time to disagree. This elder member of the council stood to address them.  
  
"Qui-gon was a friend to us all, even in the past year as we watched him push towards self-destruction. But we must accept the fact that Qui-gon is dead. In the days since the attack, we have witnessed through young Obi-wan the degenerating condition of his life. As our intelligence has found, some form of coup may have occurred on this planet. If so, Qui-gon would be killed off along with the other remnants of the past government. If Qui-gon remained undiscovered, it is unlikely he was able to receive proper care, or that he was ever found at all beneath tons and tons of concrete rubble."  
  
Other members expressed their accord with Master Da'li. While Yoda remained undecided, Mace, fuming, regrouped and prepared to fight back.  
  
"Master Da'li, you may continue to name it a fact that Qui-gon Jinn is dead; you many continue to assume that a new government would kill him, and you may certainly go on believing that Obi-wan is receiving pain through a bond with a DEAD BODY beneath the rubble. But Master Da'li, will you stand before this council and tell me if it were you on that planet you would not expect your fellow Jedi to come for your body?"  
  
At this the council was silent. Some looked away as Mace glared at each of them. Master Da'li, sat down, quietly stunned. Yoda had made up his mind.  
  
"My padwan he was," he hoarsely began, breaking the silence. "Owe it to him we do, and to the child, to risk conflict. Dead or alive, at home I want him." Yoda, whose gray eyes looked damp, excused himself from the chamber. Another long silence ensued as Mace waited for other objections. Someone finally asked, "How are we going to get in?"

"Believe it or not, "grinned Mace, "we've found a back door."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16  
  
Prince Kalizan lay tucked in bed, tucked deeper in thought, glaring out the French doors of the balcony. The rain poured relentlessly on the marble; frequent lightening lit the chamber like a strobe light. From the fireplace on his left, a log crackled noisily, snapping the prince's concentration. He worried endlessly on the Jedi—for the third time he tried to walk to his desk. But with each effort, Ralant struggled just to slide his feet to the floor. An achy fever had replaced his dizzy weariness, making it painful to move at all. It struck him, all too plainly, that these were not the normal symptoms after an episode like the one today.

Behind his stately bed, the door clicked softly shut and Aran entered with an armful of supplies. To his alarm, he found Ralant trying to rise.

"Young man," he scolded, "just where do you intend to be going? Move another inch, and so help me, you will be unconscious before you can blink."

"To my desk. I felt well enough to work, Aran, for a few—"

"You felt no such thing, Ralant. Now lie back down."

"But the Jedi—Aran, you don't understand. They could destroy everything." Dizziness tried to gain the better of him again. "All that we have worked for could vanish."

The doctor rolled his eyes good naturedly, pushing the electronic thermometer strip to his forehead. Ralant tried to swing his legs up onto the mattress, but grimaced at the effort. Aran had to tuck him back under the covers.

"Deraloy will handle the Jedi. You mustn't waste any more energy on them." The prince continued arguing as Aran removed the strip. Stunned, he raised his voice—

"Will a temperature of hundred and two convince you?" Ralant was motionless. The doctor turned away, beginning to organize his materials. Ralant leaned back against the pillows, feeling suddenly helpless.

"I'll tell Deraloy..." the prince noted in a low tone.

"It can wait. Just let me do my job right now." Aran covered his fear in exasperation, but Ralant sensed how serious this was. He tried to help by unbuttoning his shirt, but he found his fingers hard to control. Aran gently put the prince's hands down, took over the task, and listened intently to his heart and lungs. His breaths were shallower than Aran had expected, but his heartbeat was steady and strong.

"Does it hurt when you inhale?" Ralant shook his head. Aran prodded methodically at Ralant's neck, rib cage, stomach—praying for nothing unusual.

"Maybe all of this was a mistake," Ralant wondered aloud. Aran glanced up as he arranged an IV. "This is my punishment, Aran. I took what was not mine, and now I pay the debt."

"Stop this, Ralant. You did what you had to do for your people. You cannot take it back and you will die if you keep trying. This..." Aran gestured around the bed, "This is not what you _deserve_."

For another half hour, the doctor ran tests, leaving the prince exhausted. His face was graying with each subsequent hour. Ralant flinched as Aran injected the fever reducer.

"Sorry..." he mumbled. "Didn't mean to jab you." He began cleaning up around the nightstand. Ralant fingered the sheets uncomfortably, eyes downcast.

"Aran?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you care so much? And don't say it's your "altruistic duty" as a physician or something. Tell me the truth." Aran smiled, and sat down on the bed next to him.

"Because I believe in progress the way your father didn't—the way you do," Aran tried. The prince looked unconvinced. Aran mulled over his real answer, deciding to say it.

"Because, Ralant, you're the son I never had."

"I like that," the Prince called softly after a moment. "Things didn't work out with my first father so well." Both reflected a moment, the same pinching guilt sneaking up on Ralant.

"Alright Ralant, I want you to sleep." Aran prepared another syringe, administered it, and continued cleaning up.

"Aran?" the Prince mumbled, the medication already pulling him towards slumber.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think my father will ever forgive me?" Caught off guard, Aran choked up a little, realizing his surrogate son was still haunted. He couldn't answer right away, but he knew what to say. Aran swallowed the lump.  
  
"He already has, Ralant." The Prince was soon asleep. His newfound father sat beside his bed, watching him rest.

* * *

The next time Qui-gon Jinn woke up, he was acutely aware that someone was watching him. He tried to move his hand stealthily down to his saber, but found it impossible. There was a tingling in his limb—not painful, just recognizable. Without realizing it, he had managed to open his foggy eyes. 

Perany was watching him slowly come back to the world; hope cavorted inside. The Jedi's eyes were open and searching. They landed with question on the old senators face.

"Master Jinn, my name is Perany. I served with you on the Prime Minister's counsel. There's no need to worry. We are taking good care of you."

Qui-gon blinked, trying to remember the Prime Minister...the only images he had were of the High Council's chamber on Coursant. There was a small figure on the floor of the chamber. He closed his eyes to focus on it. Obi-wan. In pain. Crying—screaming. For him. Qui-gon harnessed whatever bit of the Force he could and sent the youngster love and comfort. Fatigued, he slipped back into the darkness.

* * *

Sharp voices—too close by his bed to be ignored. Footsteps. Silence. Finally, Obi-wan thought it was safe to open his eyes. He was in the empty Healer's ward with a funny red light on the tip of one finger. Sleepily, the five-year-old rolled over onto his side and tried to regain the blankness of napping.

But before he could push Qui-gon Jinn out of his mind, the long-silent bond fluttered. An affectionate warmth, weak and slow but definite, filled Obi- wan. Instant joy made him leap off the bed and scamper to the door. The loud voices were now coming from a room down the hall. Obi-wan stood still and listened.

"So now they are taking a small army and going after him. It's a waste, if you ask me. There is virtually no chance that that man is still alive..."

"I wouldn't be so sure. We've given Qui-gon up for dead before..."

Dead? Thought Obi-wan. No, not dead. _Talking._ Talking to me... Using his mastered technique of escaping without being seen, little Obi-wan left the Healer's ward and sought this small army.


End file.
